"That is the lesson. Will you remember it when I am gone?"
"Gone?"
"Yes. When I am gone away on duty. Will you remember, Penelope?"
"I am like to," she said under her breath, and sewing rapidly.
She stitched on in silence for a while; but now the light was dimming and she moved nearer the window, which was close by my bed head.
After a while her hands dropped in her lap; she looked out into the twilight. I took her tired little hand in mine, but she did not turn her head.
"I have," said I, "two thousand pounds sterling at my solicitor's in Albany. I wish you to have it if any accident happens to me.... And my glebe in Fonda's Bush.... I shall so write it in my will."
She shook her head slightly, still gazing from the window.
"Will you accept?" I asked.
"What good would it do me? If I accept it I should only divide it among the needy—in memory of—of my dear boy friend—Jack Drogue——"